The Bravest Knight in the World
by queendainty
Summary: The commonwealth is formed and lives are rearranged.  But no one can make Lithuania care, not even Poland himself, until it's too late.


The afternoon sunlight could only force partly past the mesh of leaves making up the canopy above, but where the river divided the trees it beat down fiercely. The late-June heat seeped up through the ground and baked the mud into a hard crust that split like dirty tiles. Lazily boiling in its stone bed, the narrow river carried random debris and aquatic life miles and miles through the woods before reaching the fork where the two swimmers were. The forest itself was very old. It had grown out of the lichen when the land was younger, before this part of Europe even had a name or people to name it, let alone manifested Poland himself, who was now pausing at the river bottom to demand attention. Lithuania could barely see him; he blended so easily against the sand and stone. The fair hair drifting in a cloud over his head could almost be part of the grasses streaming in the current. A pearl-sized air bubble slipped from the corner of his mouth.

"I hate you," said Lithuania carelessly. Nations lived and breathed politics, and he had married Poland on his own leader's instruction. He had married this misfortunate, vain person so he, the strong and loyal knight, could be led around on a string with childish tyranny for the good of the commonwealth. He sometimes wondered how much Poland really mimicked his people and how much of him was just free will. The two had been neighbors for many years, but Poland rarely met with other countries. Lithuania had only known him by sight as an awkwardly handsome boy in the east who owned horses. Probably not a bad choice for a husband, not that it mattered to anyone but him. Considering what little choice there was, he should call himself lucky! The first night he spent nervously in that cold castle bedroom, Lithuania had reminded himself that this was the natural, honorable thing to do. Certainly for the greater good. _Life will definitely be better from here on out _he decided. At least he hadn't had to um, consummate anything. Poland had demanded that afternoon to see him out of curiosity, but asked nothing else. It was one of Lithuania's most cringe-worthy secrets: how shivering and bare he stood uncertainly while Poland looked. Lithuania had extended an arm shyly, thinking it was expected of him, only to hear creaking laughter. "What? No, I'm not gonna fuck you." He was given his own bedroom, separate from Poland's. On the wall hung a tapestry showing a herd of wild ponies. On one corner was the word "chivalry" sewn in elegant stitches. Lithuania stared at it until he fell asleep.

And the awkwardness never really stopped. The two wove in and out of the barley fields in the days following as Poland continued business as usual and directed orders. The blond had chattered like a cage full of birds, either trying to melt the tension or just liking the sound of his own voice. Anything was possible. Finally, after his cheerful boasts got no response, he took off his hat and scratched his head. "What's your problem?"

He doesn't look like a commoner, but he talks like one, observed Lithuania. "I'm sorry."

"Don't 'sorry' like you're handing me a shovel. I know what's up."

Lithuania thought of "chivalry" and put on his nicest wooden face.

"You don't talk much, huh? I mean Jesus, who are you? You thought I wouldn't notice?"

Lithuania gazed blankly at his companion, wondering what new mistake he'd made.

"The king! The whole court, all of them! They said you were legit! Dirt poor, yeah, but still totally a great hero!" He cast his brightest, most indignant beam of scorn on Lithuania. "But you're not! You just…do whatever people want. That ain't brave."

They had come to the edge of the field by now. Poland slumped against a tree and crossed his ankles. "I told them. I said, "I don't need a guy. It's just a commonwealth. He can marry somebody else who gives a crap. But no; nobody listens and now I've got you." He kept muttering jadedly to himself, barely loud enough to hear. When a beetle the size of a baby's finger dropped onto his shoulder, he flinched and then ambled back towards Lithuania, who by now had lost his patience.

"Aren't you the same? We all live by the government!"

The blond addressed him, hands on hips. "You must have an opinion."

Lithuania scoffed, forgetting his politeness. He looked at the beetle still hissing on Poland's shoulder and decided to humor him. An opinion? Fine. His mouth parted to deliver it but faltered. "I - " Uncertain silence if not for the wind in the grass and a distant rooster crowing.

"Yeah?" The other prodded. His eyes were funny, Lithuania noticed, not for the last time. They turned down at the corners, giving him a permanently foolish expression, but were green as grain, green as moss, blistering green.

"I hate you," he finished lamely, but it was a start. Better than saying nothing, or even worse, saying nothing while staring at Poland.

Poland looked flattered.

**.**

"I have a weird feeling."

"That's 'cause I was drowning. Did you see?" Poland surfaced and heaved himself naked and soaking onto the stones beside him. He lay back with shameless comfort, confident that no one who could see would care. Lithuania shut his eyes and saw a polar effect of the glare on the river. A flea bit the back of his neck and he clapped a hand over it. One of the inconveniences of warm weather. Lithuania drew his hand away and wiped it absently on his chest where it left a tiny smear of blood. A tiny seed of something unpleasant was sprouting in his mind. Was there was something he had forgotten?

"You weren't drowning. I doubt you could."

"Totally was! You don't even know," argued Poland.

_I hate him_. He couldn't recall how long ago they had married, but nothing had changed. _I hate him,_ he thought when they bickered over crops, when they rode or more often limped home on foot from battle and Poland sang war songs lamenting his dead horses. _I hate you_ muttered noiselessly into a sunburned collarbone or breathlessly into his own knuckles. It was a sturdy, simple thought.

The summer heat combined with the white noise of the river lulled Poland to sleep before he had even dried. He dozed half-curled on the bank, gold head pillowed in the ferns. No one but him could lie naked on the ground and still look so utterly, unbearably perfect that Lithuania had to turn away. His mind wandered and stuttered with memories of Poland so stupid and kind, so selfish. A green leaf plastered against a dignified sleeping forehead drew his eye back again. Lithuania leaned forward to peel it off. It left a wet spot on the fair skin and all mental rambling drifted slowly to a halt.

There was something he was forgetting. There was something important but Lithuania felt only how fortunate he was, how glad; he would not think why. He lowered himself until he felt the other's drowsy breath. His hands seemed very clumsy and weak, but he smoothed a stray blond lock, ran his thumb against the soft shell of Poland's ear, noticed eyelashes clinging together, not yet dry. Before it was too late, before those eyes opened, Lithuania wanted to tell him -

He wanted to explain to Poland how he truly -

But why? For what purpose? There would be a thousand other, better opportunities to come. If he spoke now, Poland would laugh his creaking laugh and ridicule him. He'd never hear the end of it. It was better to keep his mouth shut. There was no need to say it at all, really.

The fine, almost invisible hair on Poland's arms stood up as it dried.

Lithuania did and didn't want to look at his Poland anymore, who was still exquisitely bare against the banks where he dozed, Lithuania was quite aware, with no one around. Lithuania sat back carefully. The bad feeling he'd voiced earlier had not left him, rather it was unfolding too quickly to stifle. It spread out of his momentary tenderness like a horrible bloom. Lithuania reached for his husband in dread or confusion and then snatched his hands away. Something was going to happen, no, had already happened and he wasn't a brave knight at all and in the end he simply leaned against Poland's knee and cried, for no reason he knew of. The sound was too quiet to hear above the river.

**.**

Sunlight shone warmly onto his face through the window.

"Do you ever have strange dreams?" he asked conversationally, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Never mind," Russia demurred. He scrutinized Lithuania with the usual mixture of benign curiosity and detachment before saying, "I do not encourage anyone in this house to oversleep. I will not tell you again."

Lithuania rose and dressed quickly. He reminded himself that he hated Poland.


End file.
